


Fake Love 'til You Make Love

by Applepie, Crystia



Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: M/M, Magic Revealed, Pining
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-31
Updated: 2017-10-02
Packaged: 2018-07-11 08:17:24
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,666
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7040482
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Applepie/pseuds/Applepie, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Crystia/pseuds/Crystia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It just seems so obvious: Merlin is in love with him. </p><p>But perhaps even a prince shouldn’t assume such things, especially when he unwittingly stakes their friendship on it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Revelation

**Author's Note:**

> A thousand and one thanks for [Kwizzic](http://archiveofourown.org/users/Kwizzic/pseuds/Kwizzic), our beta, who was incredibly thorough and patient. Especially since we suddenly dropped 40000 words on her without warning. She deserves ice cream.
> 
> All the ice cream.

The soft clatter of silverware woke Arthur on an early spring morning, startling him out of his half-asleep daze.

His manservant went about his morning routine, humming softly, oblivious to Arthur’s attention. He worked more quietly than usual to allow him an extra few minutes of sleep, although given the cacophony of sound that generally followed in Merlin’s wake, it lacked significant improvement.

When Merlin threw open the curtains with a cheery “ _rise and shine!_ ” Arthur blinked groggily, a sudden thought fleeting across his foggy, half-asleep mind.

Fully awake he would have deemed the notion too outlandish to consider, and asleep he would have dismissed it as dreaming folly, but in his pleasant in-between state he had the coherency to speak his mind but not the self-discipline to restrain it.

“You’re in love with me,” Arthur announced, drowsy but certain.

Merlin immediately tripped, losing his grip on the water pitcher he’d brought with breakfast. He managed to clumsily catch it again, but not before its contents splashed onto the floor and his clothes. Steadying himself, his irreverent grin vanished, and he shot Arthur an incredulous look, shock quickly transforming into wary suspicion.

“You’re still dreaming, Sire,” he said, on edge. “I’m _Merlin_. Gwen doesn’t wake you in the mornings, as much as you might wish otherwise.”

Arthur watched with a furrowed brow.

"Don't be ridiculous, Merlin, of course it's you," he uttered, rolling his eyes. No one else would dare wake him up in such an unnecessarily perky manner, and late, no less. "Why would I be expecting Guinevere?"

Silence reigned, long enough for Arthur to wonder if Merlin hadn't heard him—perhaps he’d been distracted by the food, the idiot—but then his servant answered slowly, as though speaking to someone particularly dimwitted.

"Because you’re in love with her?"

"What does that have to do with anything?" Arthur demanded. Merlin hesitated, but the prince carried on, paying him no heed. "We're talking about you."

"Me?" Merlin repeated blankly.

Arthur let out an exasperated breath. This shouldn’t be such a difficult concept to grasp.

"You're in love with me," he enunciated, slowly and clearly, so that even an idiot couldn't mistake the words.

The water pitcher, never set down after its initial tumble, trembled as Merlin’s fingers clenched tightly around its handle. A long, heavy pause lingered before his grip finally loosened, and a strange mask settled over his features. Only an irritable twitch of a finger gave away his nerves.

"Well, you’ve caught me," he said, an indefinable twang in his voice, when he finally spoke up once more. His shoulders tensed until he visibly forced the muscles to relax. “Of course I am. There really is _no_ fooling you, is there, Sire?”

Merlin turned on his heel in dismissal, dropping the pitcher onto the table with a clatter and briskly wandering over to the wardrobe. He yanked it open with rather more force than necessary.

Arthur blinked away the last lingering haze of sleep from his eyes, awaiting the inevitable rant. A slighted Merlin was a snarky Merlin, after all.

When none came, he raised an eyebrow. Merlin had shut up unusually quickly. Normally he never missed an opportunity to ridicule his prince or prolong the bantering. _Unless_ , of course, Merlin was too busy hiding his feelings to conjure up any semblance of wit.

Arthur smirked. If he hadn't been confident before, he certainly was now.

"You do," Arthur crowed.

Merlin only pressed his lips into a tight line, knuckles whitening as he held out the prince's coat. Unusually interested in choosing his attire for the day, Merlin avoided his eyes.

"Arthur, I know this might be hard for someone of your intellect to understand,” said Merlin, voice strained. “But I was joking."

Arthur paid him no heed. Whatever Merlin was babbling about, it almost certainly translated to some variation of I-fancy-the-prince (but-I’m-too-embarrassed-to-admit-it), and so idea solidified to fact in Arthur’s mind.

Merlin let out an exasperated huff, evidently reading the thoughts off the prince’s face.

"Do you honestly think I’d be enough of an idiot to fall in love with a prat like you?" he griped, tossing Arthur’s coat onto the bed with a peevish frown.

Arthur’s lips stretched into a triumphant smirk.

"You aren’t denying it," he declared, and Merlin threw up his hands with an aggrieved groan.

"I have better things to do than to indulge your insecurities,” he complained. “Now wake up, you have a full schedule ahead of you. Unsuspecting knights to batter, your father’s councilors to trample... if they don’t bore you to death first."

He reached over and viciously yanking the covers off his master. When Arthur’s skin broke out in goosebumps from the chill, he lunged to pull them back.

"Now I know why you always insist on waking me like this," the prince said with a leer, fingers scrabbling to gain purchase on the linen. “So _forward_ , _Mer_ lin. Are you so eager to bare my skin?”

"Only because you fall back asleep otherwise," Merlin retorted. Whatever nervousness that had taken ahold of him earlier was thoroughly replaced by ire at this point. "Lazy arse. Get up."

Arthur pointedly yawned.

Merlin glared.

"You shouldn’t lie to your prince, Merlin," Arthur said, letting his voice drop into a smug, faux-sympathetic whisper. "I know how you feel."

"I definitely feel something," Merlin muttered under his breath, finally dropping Arthur onto the floor in an undignified heap, blankets and all. "Although you shouldn’t want to kill your prince, either."

Arthur ignored him, undaunted by his treasonous words.

Watching Merlin's pale skin flush red from his cheeks to his abnormally large ears, he couldn’t help but feel pleased with himself. Arthur idly wondered to what degree anger caused the blush, and what could be credited to Merlin’s embarrassment at having his secret exposed.

The thought fascinated him.

"If that’s all, Sire?" his servant asked waspishly.

Except, Merlin looked more than ready to storm off at this point in time, already halfway to the door, and Arthur couldn't have that.

"A year as my manservant, and you're still incapable of doing your duties properly, Merlin?" Arthur retorted, holding out his arms. "Do I look dressed to you?"

Sullenly, Merlin trudged back.

Merlin could scowl at him all day, but Arthur wasn't about to let him run off before he got what he wanted. Not when Arthur was so close to extracting the truth - Merlin couldn't lie to save his life, after all.

Arthur had ample opportunity to extract a confession, and he felt a sudden, inexplicable giddiness wash over him at the anticipation of it. Merlin had no chance of avoiding him, and couldn’t ignore him when called. Judging from the sour look on Merlin's face, he knew it too.

Arthur felt certain it wouldn’t take long.


	2. Chapter 2

"Why don't you just admit it?" Arthur urged as his steed cantered onwards, heading deeper and deeper through the woods of Camelot. Merlin glanced over sharply before shifting his gaze forward to keep an eye on the rocky path.

"Admit what?" he said coolly. "My distaste for hunting? I thought you already knew. Have you _ever_ paid attention to me when I talk?"

"You know what I mean," Arthur replied, exasperated.

As if Merlin wasn't typically enough of an idiot, he'd now taken to being purposefully obtuse. Sometimes Arthur wondered why he put up with him.

Merlin's face darkened in annoyance, and his hold on the reins tightened as he pulled his horse ahead and free from their side-by-side trot.

Arthur rolled his eyes.

His steed picked up speed, accustomed to taking the lead. A couple steps later, he pulled even with Merlin once more.

"All right, fine. You don't have to answer," he conceded.

Merlin scrutinised him suspiciously. "Really," the servant said, skepticism in his voice.

He peeked over at his prince. A grin stretched across Arthur's lips.

"Of course," the prince nodded agreeably. "For now."

Arthur allowed the horses to walk a little further down the path in silence, then…

"As long as you confess what you like about me."

Merlin shot him a glare. "Arthur!"

"It's a different question," Arthur insisted, grin firmly in place. He maneuvered his steed until he forced Merlin to a halt. "So, come on," he demanded, leaning in as far as his saddle would allow, "how have I charmed you? What do you like about me?"

"I like how you're not an insufferable prat… Oh, wait," Merlin said in faux surprise, as though hit with a sudden realisation. He tugged at his neckerchief in agitation, then fumbled to regain a hold of the reins as his horse tossed its head.

Arthur chuckled with a good natured, patronising shake of his head. "Merlin, Merlin. It's just the two of us. You don't have to worry about anyone overhearing."

"Is that why you dragged me out here?" Merlin demanded, his voice rising an octave in chagrin. "To torment me? I suppose killing hapless small animals just isn't enough for you anymore!"

"I can do both," Arthur retorted with a shrug. "It's called being efficient. Something you never seem able to grasp."

"I never doubted your ability to multi-task," Merlin shot back peevishly. "You certainly have no problem being both stupid _and_ an arse."

He pulled his horse away from Arthur's, continuing down the forest path, grumbling under his breath. Arthur pretended not to hear, and eventually, as he knew it would, the grumbling turned into mindless rambling about one thing or another. Merlin probably thought the matter was dropped. It was pleasant enough, except...

"Aren't you forgetting something, Merlin?" he called out, interrupting him mid-sentence.

His manservant paused. He blinked owlishly at him for a long minute before visibly brightening up.

"Oh, your crossbow?" he asked innocently, slipping the weapon off his back and presenting it to his prince.

"The question," he deadpanned. "You still haven't answered the question."

"Hm? What question?" He shoved the crossbow into Arthur's chest and then abruptly turned to lead his horse down the path and into a commonly-used clearing. Looking up at Arthur, he frowned when the prince didn't follow. "Well? Are you going to kill rabbits or what? I _do_ have other duties to take care of today, as you should know."

"Merlin, who do you think-"

"Deer," he cried, pointing behind the prince.

Arthur's head snapped around, catching a disappearing glimpse of soft fur and hooves. He was thoroughly distracted as he raced to track their vanishing company, forgetting it all in his determination to bring such an admirable catch home.

 

* * *

 

After an exhausting week of coaxing, Arthur had to admit he'd been wrong; Merlin was much tougher to crack than Arthur initially surmised. His efforts to extract a confession had been...formidable, to say the least, but Merlin held fast.

"Would you _stop it already_?" Merlin finally shouted after several days of persistent interrogation, having finally been pressed far past the limits of his patience.

Despite noting Merlin had been edgy all week, Arthur blinked, still taken aback by the outburst.

"I just want you to admit the truth," he said defensively. Hoping to goad Merlin into an argument, he allowed himself a smug smirk. "Come, Merlin, it's perfectly understandable. I'm a handsome prince who's saved your scrawny neck more times than I can count. I'm completely out of your league, but I'm sure no one could blame you for pining."

Merlin opened his mouth, and then closed it, his lips forming a hard line.

Arthur suddenly felt a vague misgiving at the harsh expression, and nervously wondered if he'd pushed too far. Nevertheless, he forced himself to hold his smile.

"Look, Arthur," Merlin finally said venomously, fueled by the week of continuous stress. "Let's just suppose you were right, and I'm in love with you."

"You admit it," Arthur declared, although his triumph subsided under Merlin's glare.

"I did no such thing," Merlin hissed. "We're speaking _hypothetically_."

"All right, Merlin," Arthur agreed.

His voice was condescending, and he really should stop riling Merlin up, but he wasn't sure how to face this sudden anger. He'd never seen Merlin so furious with him before, or with anybody, really. It was a futile hope that by maintaining his normal attitude, Merlin would fall back into his usual patterns as well, because it seemed his servant was truly well and done with his teasing.

"Shut up," Merlin snapped, and continued before Arthur had the chance to scold him for speaking to his prince like that. "Let's just say I _did_ like you like that. So what?"

"What do you mean, 'so what'-"

"I mean, what are you going to do about it?" Merlin cut him off. "What would, or _could_ , I do about it? You aren't in love with me. So why would you need to know?"

"It's good to be honest about this sort of thing," Arthur protested weakly, beginning to feel a trifle guilty under the onslaught of Merlin's ardent mood. Perhaps he'd gone a bit too far with his teasing.

"Why? Because we're _friends_?" Merlin demanded. "If you're my _friend_ , isn't it rather cruel of you to mock me, when there's no chance that you'd ever be in love with stupid, _clumsy_ Merlin?"

All of a sudden, Arthur felt rather sick from Merlin's interpretation, because that wasn't why he'd done it at all. He hadn't meant any harm by it, he'd just wanted-

He'd just wanted-

"We _are_ friends, aren't we?" Merlin suddenly asked, voice going low, vulnerable, and imploring. Arthur had never felt so put on the spot. Of course they were friends, but he couldn't _admit_ that, because Merlin was-

"You're a servant," Arthur blurted, and he was about to add that Merlin was the bravest and most loyal servant he'd ever had, and that Arthur wouldn't trade him for anything or anyone. Even though Arthur couldn't admit that they were friends, he could certainly imply it.

Unfortunately, caught by the lump in his throat, he hesitated just a second too long in choosing his words. At his silence, Merlin took a step back as though struck.

It was only then that Arthur realized what his previous words would have implied, and oh no, _wrong thing to say_ -

"Wait, Merlin, I didn't finish. I meant that-"

"Never mind, _my Lord_ ," Merlin interrupted bitterly, his expression darkening, and then blank. "That was my mistake."

"Merlin, wait-" Arthur caught his arm, holding on tightly even while Merlin roughly tried to shake him off.

"It doesn't matter, anyway," Merlin said bitingly, prying at Arthur's fingers and refusing to look him in the eyes. "I'd never be in love with someone who could be such an ass."

" _Mer_ lin-"

Gwen came around the corner just then. She was out of Merlin's line of vision, but certainly not Arthur's. The prince's eyes widened at her sudden appearance, releasing Merlin's arm in surprise. He regretted the action immediately when his servant took the opportunity to dart off, slipping past the way in which Gwen had come, barely seeming to see her as he fled.

"My Lord?" she asked uncertainly, watching Arthur with wide eyes that darted between him and the corner around which Merlin had disappeared.

"Guinevere," he said faintly, thrown entirely off balance. He wanted to chase after Merlin; their conversation had gone _terribly_ , but he didn't know what he should say. Nor did he know what he would tell Guinevere, if he suddenly ran off. It was completely improper.

"Are you all right, my Lord?" she asked hesitantly, looking like she wanted to chase after Merlin herself. Propriety stopped her, as she lingered to check on her prince.

"I think," Arthur said, swallowing loudly. "I think I might have done something… cruel."

Gwen stared at him suspiciously. "What did you say to Merlin?"

"I may have been, well, poking fun at him, for being in love with me," Arthur admitted, shamefaced.

"Merlin is in love … with you?" Gwen asked cautiously, carefully watching Arthur's response.

"Well, he never actually said," Arthur admitted hastily. "Of course he denied it, I just wanted him to be honest with me."

"So you just _assumed_ he was in love with you," she said, obviously disapproving.

"Yes?" said Arthur uncertainly.

Gwen paused, taking in the information with an incredulous expression. She looked at Arthur like he was quite dense, a look he was quite familiar with thanks to Merlin, but he wasn't used to seeing it directed at him so blatantly from _Gwen_. He prickled peevishly.

"Oh, Arthur," Gwen sighed. "It's incredibly rude to just _assume_ these things. And you made fun of him for it?"

"I didn't mean any harm," Arthur said defensively. "I mean, it's _Mer_ lin. He can handle a bit of ribbing."

"This isn't just a bit of ribbing," Gwen snapped, taking Arthur aback. Biting her lip, she seemed to remember her place, before taking a breath and gathering her courage.

"If he _is_ in love with you, it would hurt him very much if you mocked him for it," she said. "And if he _isn't_ in love with you, it would still hurt him, because he does care for you, even if it isn't romantic. Either way, he knows now that you don't take him seriously, and that's... It's not a good thing, to know that you can never be anything more than servant and prince, whether it's friends or lovers. By mocking him, you didn't respect him as a person with feelings."

She finished quickly, fidgeting with her dress. "I'm sorry, my Lord. It's not my place, but I think you just reminded Merlin of _his_ place. And... It's not for me to assume, but I'd wager that you didn't intend to do so. I don't mean to overstep-" she continued anxiously, before Arthur cut her off.

"It's all right, Guinevere," he said, to spare her further rambling. She'd gotten better at controlling the nervous habit, but it still reasserted itself on occasion. "You… have a point."

They stood there in awkward silence. Arthur stood with his arms crossed as Gwen eyed him warily.

"Perhaps you should go after him?" she suggested tentatively, when Arthur still didn't react.

"Yes," he concurred, even though he had no idea what he could say to him. He'd never had a _friend_ before. Not like Merlin. And now he'd made a thorough mess of it. "I should go after him."

Still, he didn't move, and now was Guinevere watching him with something approaching pity. "You don't know what to say to him, do you?"

"Of course I do," Arthur said quickly. Silence fell again. Eventually he deflated under her skeptical gaze. "Well. Maybe not," he admitted reluctantly.

"Well," Gwen said slowly. "I don't know about Merlin, but... are you in love with _him_?"

Arthur gaped at her.

"It's all right if you are," Gwen continued hurriedly. "I really didn't expect you to wait around for me, and I'll be fine, so I don't want you to hold back on my account. Merlin is my best friend—well, aside from Morgana—so I want the two of you to be happy... Not that I _don't_ want you to wait for me, but I'll find my own happiness no matter what. Oh! And I'm not against the fact that you're both, uh, men or anything, that's fine, and oh, I'm doing it again, aren't I?"

She cut off her own babbling as Arthur gaped at her in vague panic.

His response _might_ have been slightly belated, and a tad loud, but that was only because of the shock.

"Of course I'm not in love with Merlin," he denied, off-key. To his increasing agitation, it only gave Gwen reason to view his declaration doubtfully.

"I see," she said. She hummed and then continued absent-mindedly, "He might have forgiven you more easily, if you were..."

"What do you mean?" Arthur demanded.

"Well, if you were in love with him, you could have apologized, and explained that was the reason you wanted him to admit his own feelings so badly," Gwen elaborated absentmindedly. She paused, thoughtful. "Why _did_ you want him to admit it so badly?"

"I just-" Arthur began, uncertain how, or _if_ he even could explain. "I just got carried away." Gwen, though, seemed to reach her own conclusions. "Guinevere, I don't want you getting the wrong idea-"

The rest of the words fell into silence as he was struck by a sudden thought.

"Wait. So you think that if I really was in love with him, he'd be more inclined to forgive me?"

"Yes, but since you say that you're not," she said, her brow furrowed warily. "I think you'll just have to apologize."

"But I could _say_ that I am," Arthur pointed out, growing excited at his budding plan.

"Arthur," Gwen said anxiously. "You can't mean to _fake_ feelings for him?"

"It'd just be for a while," Arthur insisted. "He'll snap out of it soon, right? He just has a little crush. I won't need to fake them for long, and besides, I... I do care for him. He's my-" he stumbled for a second, but when the words finally managed to come out, they rang terrifyingly true. "He's my most trusted friend."

The admission made him feel slightly embarrassed, but surely he was man enough that he could admit this much to Gwen. Arthur knew she wouldn't mock him-

Oh.

Suddenly, he felt terribly guilty all over again, because now he finally understood exactly how he'd mocked Merlin. He'd mocked him the same way in which he'd feared it being directed at himself. Even worse, he'd mocked his _romantic_ feelings.

Abruptly panicked that Merlin _wouldn't_ forgive him, Arthur felt all the more dedicated to the new plan. He would be "in love" with Merlin as long as he needed to, so long as Merlin forgave him. He couldn't _not_ forgive him. Arthur couldn't imagine having Merlin hate him.

Well, actually, he could. Their first meeting came to mind. But instead of the amusement he typically felt towards those memories, he felt a deep terror that they would somehow return to that, now that he knew Merlin's impression of him had changed.

"Arthur, this could hurt Merlin very much," Gwen told him urgently. "Even if you care for him, if he finds out-"

"He won't find out," Arthur insisted. "And I'm not mocking him with this. I want to make things right between us, and for that I need him to forgive me."

"He might not ever forgive you if you go through with this," she continued, frustrated.

"It's just a crush," Arthur maintained. "It's harmless. I'll pretend to love him until he's over it, and no one needs to be any the wiser."

"It's not honorable. You're a better man than this, Arthur Pendragon."

"I-" Arthur started, but he stopped quickly, enthusiasm dimming. She was right. He'd been so caught up in the idea, he hadn't even considered the dishonor of pursuing someone he had no interest in.

He just wanted Merlin to forgive him.

"You're right," he relented, his shoulders hunching. "Of course. You're right."

Gwen deflated as well as she frowned in sympathy. "It's all right, Arthur. Just go apologize. I'm sure he'll forgive you when he sees you're sincere."

"Sure. It's Merlin, after all. How long can _Mer_ lin, of all people, hold a grudge?" he asked weakly.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Arthur does something stupid.

 

It turned out Merlin could hold a grudge for a very long time.

He hadn’t referred to Arthur as anything but “Sire” or “My Lord” for over a week. No matter how often Arthur tried to lure him into conversation, or even argument, Merlin reacted with perfect professionalism.

His breakfast was on time. It consisted of food he most hated, of course, but nothing was wrong with it otherwise. Whereas before Merlin would sneak in a pastry treat or nab some extra fresh fruit, Arthur now had bland, if not perfectly acceptable, early-morning breakfasts.

There were no more obnoxious “rise and shines!”. Now, he quietly and gradually opened up the curtains and puttered about quietly until Arthur had no choice but to get up or be late. He’d almost been tardy to his first morning practice, the day after their fight.

There were no friendly conversations while he bathed, or while he settled down for the night. There were no knowing smirks when the nobles made their bootlicking just a little too obvious. Nor the quiet camaraderie when Merlin assisted with his armour, the encouraging pats on the shoulder, or touches that lingered just a bit too long to be proper.

Any arguments Arthur  _ finally  _ managed to goad Merlin into ended with Merlin clenching his jaw, and then taking his leave - no snarky retorts, nor blatant disregard for his title.

He’d spoken to Gwen, a few times, for advice. She told him Merlin’s hostility was lessening, but he wasn’t sure he believed it.

So a long week and a half after Merlin’s fateful outburst, he decided it was time to have a candid, heart-to-heart conversation with Merlin, even if it killed him. Although to be perfectly honest, risking death in a fighting tournament was preferable, any day.

He trapped Merlin in his room that night, edging between Merlin and the exit, while his servant was busy stoking the fire - his last of his duties before turning in.

“Merlin,” Arthur began, causing the other man to look up. Merlin narrowed his eyes, his gaze flickering between Arthur and the door.

“My Lord?” he asked cautiously.

“I wanted to apologize again,” Arthur said. He’d already done so the night of the fight, not long after his conversation with Gwen, but perhaps it hadn’t gotten through. There was still a desperate hope inside that maybe if he tried  _ just one more time _ , he’d  _ finally _ be forgiven. 

Merlin watched him with tight lips, his jaw stubbornly set. He looked more tired than angry, though, and Arthur took this as encouragement.

“I didn’t mean to mock you,” he insisted. Merlin raised a doubtful eyebrow, perhaps an unconscious habit picked up from Gaius, and Arthur’s mouth dried. “I only wanted-” he began once more, only to quickly run out of words.

Merlin was not amused. 

“You only wanted what?” he pressed,distrust clear on his tone.

Arthur faltered.

“I wanted… I only wanted you to say you loved me,” he said slowly, carefully. He eyed Merlin, but his servant’s eyebrow was unwavering, and that didn’t bode well for Arthur.

He hastily pushed on. “I wanted it because... because-” Arthur stumbled through his words, horrifically reminded of his conversation with Gwen, when he’d been unable to explain his reasoning. Except he was talking to Merlin this time, and he really couldn’t botch this apology.

“Because why?” Merlin demanded impatiently. He looked a hair away from storming off.

“Because-” Arthur’s mind raced, trying to latch onto to something,  _ anything, _ that could work as an excuse. Anything to keep him there; to cease Merlin’s suspicious gaze. “ _ Because I’m in love with you, _ ” he blurted without thinking, unwittingly repeating the words Gwen had given him.

His eyes widened in horror.

“ _ What? _ ” Merlin exclaimed, and Arthur thought he sounded equally horrified. The servant’s eyes were wide, mouth hung open in an undignified manner.

Speechless from his own words, Arthur could do little else but inwardly lament his misfortune. 

Granted, Arthur  _ had  _ considered the idea, but, with a little help from Gwen, he had  _ also  _ understood how dishonorable and unbecoming it was of a knight and prince. Though he’d never intended to act on it, he’d lingered on the idea for a long time after Gwen suggested it; maybe too long, for him to blurt it out like this in a moment of panic.

Before him, Merlin’s expression flickered from incredulity, to suspicion, and then rested on angry resignation.

“You’re mocking me again,” Merlin finally spoke, before Arthur could gather his wits.

“ _ No _ ,” Arthur said loudly and quickly, then gave a cough to clear his throat, panicked. “I mean … No.”

He tried to appear calm, but internally, Arthur was floundering. He couldn’t say that he’d been lying - not without a good excuse, or Merlin  _ would _ think that he was mocking him. Arthur wasn’t, but he was at a loss as to how he could explain himself without implicating Guinevere; it had been her fault he’d even considered those words, after all, but he couldn’t very well say that he’d discussed the situation with her. He didn’t need Merlin further angry at him for revealing his secret crush. It suddenly seemed like a betrayal of confidence, no matter how trustworthy Gwen proved.

“I  _ am _ in love with you,” Arthur said slowly, trying to sound resolute. The words tasted strange on his tongue. “That was why I... I only mean, I didn’t intend to mock. I wanted you to... say it back,” he blurted, half-rambling as he improvised his way through. Suddenly, as he said those words, the reason behind Guinevere’s excuse were finally clear to him. “Yes, that’s it. I wanted you to say it back. That’s why I wanted you to admit it,” Arthur repeated with stronger confidence.

“You pestered me about it,” Merlin summarised doubtfully. “Because you have ...  _ feelings _ for me.”

“Yes?” Arthur answered weakly.

Merlin paused, seeming to think it over. “No,” he finally announced. “No, I don’t believe you.”

“What?” Arthur said, indignant. He disliked his honor being questioned, even if he  _ was  _ behaving dishonorably at the moment. “Don’t you trust me? Why would I lie about such a thing?”

“To ‘poke fun’ at me,” Merlin said sourly, without hesitation.

“I wouldn’t,” Arthur insisted, agitated, but honest for once. “Haven’t I apologized?”

Merlin mulled over Arthur’s words for a long minute until he finally displayed the first hint of possible belief. It seemed to add an odd vulnerability to his stance.

Arthur, though, didn’t spare a second to ponder about it, quickly seizing his chance.

“I wouldn’t,” he said again, firmly, staring unflinchingly into the depths of Merlin’s eyes.

Merlin watched him with his eyebrows furrowed, and expression pained. An agitated fist drew over his face before it landed over his mouth, pressed against it as if not trusting himself to speak words he wouldn’t regret.

“I’ll prove it to you, Merlin,” Arthur said, more compellingly, trying to fill in the uneasy silence. “Just give me time. I’ll make it up to you. I swear it.”

The expression on Merlin’s face was near unreadable, but Arthur thought he caught a reluctant flicker of hope.

“All right, Arthur,” Merlin said slowly, using his first name for the first time in over a week. Arthur almost could have wept with relief. “But if this is all a joke, you’d best tell me now, or I shan’t forgive you.”

Arthur felt a jolt of indecision, but only a moment.

He’d take this secret to the grave, if it meant having Merlin as a friend again.

“It’s not a joke,” he promised, and he was gifted with the smallest of upward tugs to the corner of Merlin’s lips. In that instant, all lingering thoughts of indecision fled his mind, and Arthur felt victorious.

ooo

 

Arthur might have said that he’d make it up to Merlin, that he would  _ prove _ he wasn’t lying about his love towards the other man, but he wasn’t sure how to actually go about it.

With a bit of deliberation, he decided that breakfast was a place to start. Before Merlin arrived to fetch him the next morning, Arthur woke uncharacteristically early to order another servant to bring him his meal.

Merlin came bursting in not ten minutes after it was delivered, slightly out of breath, and carrying his own platter of food for the prince. He drew up short when saw the stocked table, frowning as his eyes flickered up to where Arthur sat, fully dressed, on the sill of the window.

“You’re up early,” he observed, frown ever-present on his face. Arthur felt unusually nervous; even if he didn’t  _ really  _ love Merlin, he still needed Merlin to  _ think _ he loved him, because Arthur  _ did _ like Merlin, just not in that way, and wanted Merlin to like him back.

And, perhaps, dealing with Merlin’s love wouldn’t be a terrible cross to bear, either.

“You could’ve sent someone to tell me that you wouldn’t need breakfast,” Merlin said disapprovingly, setting down his own plates so that he could go tidy Arthur’s blankets. He might have dressed himself, but a prince certainly couldn’t be expected to make his own bed.

“But I did need a breakfast,” Arthur said, forcing his voice as casual as he could.

“Another one?” Merlin asked dubiously. “No matter how much extra training you put the knights through, there comes a point where you’ll  _ still _ need another notch poked in your belt.”

“Not for me, Merlin,” Arthur said irritably. When Merlin looked at him with raised eyebrows, he cleared his throat subconsciously. “You’ve brought me my breakfast. The one already here is yours.”

“Oh,” Merlin said, completely taken aback. Opening his mouth as though to say something, he bit his lip just after, hands reaching up to fidget with his scarf, for a lack of proper words. “ _ Oh _ .”

“Yes,” Arthur said awkwardly, clearing his throat again. “What I mean is- Merlin, will you dine with me?”

“Oh,” he said once more, softly. Hesitantly, he glanced between the table and Arthur, then seemed to take heart when he saw that the prince was visibly nervous.

“All right,” he decided slowly, and Arthur’s heart inexplicably stuttered.

Merlin plopped down in the chair across from Arthur’s, before the prince had a chance to come over and pull it out for him, much to his annoyance. Still, Merlin had accepted the invitation. Surely that meant something.

“Well, are you going to join me?” Merlin asked, regaining some of his spirit. Despite having his own breakfast, he reached over and plucked a grape from Arthur’s plate.

Merlin was smiling up at him, though, and Arthur couldn’t bring himself to mind the stolen fruit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

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